


The Uncharted

by starprise_entership



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-12-16 22:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starprise_entership/pseuds/starprise_entership
Summary: In an alternate future, Captain Tasha Yar explores the uncharted universe.In an alternate future, Commander Deanna Troi voyages into undiscovered territory, and finds out what really happened to the USS Delta.





	1. Chapter 1

_Captain’s Log, Stardate 55629.9. We have just witnessed the formation of the Protostar we have named Diadsac III, and we are heading back to Federation space and are awaiting our next mission._

Captain Yar examines images of the star on her PADD, one hand in her short-cropped blond hair. Her firm, set jaw marks her as a stern-looking, fierce person, but her clear yet warm eyes say otherwise. Deep in thought, she puts down her PADD as the door chime sounds.

“Come in,” Yar announces, looking up. Her first officer, Deanna Troi, steps through the doorway and walks over to Yar’s table, where she stands and waits for the command.

Yar smiles. “At ease.” Troi relaxes, taking the seat across the table from Yar.

“Astrometrics say they’ll be able to get the report done by tomorrow, thirteen hundred hours.” Troi announces, a tinge of excitement in her voice.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” Yar says, leaning forward. “Why couldn’t Lieutenant Ang come to me personally? I thought he was the one in charge.”

Troi seems wistful. “I had other reasons.”

Yar lowers her voice. “We’ll be off duty in a few hours. We’ll talk then.” She smirks. “Come to tell me about next week’s shore leave?”

“You said we’ll talk after that. See you in two hours.” Troi says, straightening up.

“See you.” Yar says, before reminding herself that she’s still on duty and has to see Deanna as her first officer and her first officer only. “Dismissed.”

After the ready room is empty except for her, Yar is deep in thought, twisting the wedding band on her ring finger. Marrying Deanna wasn’t a mistake, certainly, but it did make things harder when they were on duty. She had to be objective, and not let her strong affection for Deanna cloud her decisions and actions. And it seemed, at times, those were two mutually exclusive things.

Seeing Deanna on the transporter pad made her heart sink every time, because she wouldn’t know whether if it was the last time she would ever look into the eyes of her beloved.

Sighing, Yar picks up her PADD again, reading message after message. There were greater things to do, and Yar wasn’t going to let the unknown stay the unknown.

“Our mission,” Yar said to herself, “is to go forth and explore the uncharted, to discover new life and civilisations, and to head bravely into the unknown.” It sounded like a good mission, and there was definitely going to be some fun to be had along the way. Getting up from her chair, she headed towards the bridge, determined to make this journey a good one.


	2. Chapter 2

The door slides open with a whoosh, and Captain Natasha Yar steps onto the bridge of the USS Vienna. A sleek, brilliant Intrepid-Class starship, it is her pride and joy, as well as her most pressing responsibility.

“Captain,” Commander Jamin, the second officer, calls from from the helm. Her slightly pointed ears mark her as having Romulan blood, but Yar trusts her nonetheless, as a fellow Starfleet Officer. “We have reached the coordinates you have specified.”

“Very well.” Yar walks over, and sits in her chair in the centre of the bridge. “Engines to full stop.”

The head of Operations, Lieutenant Hurley, calls from a station to her left. “Starfleet has an incoming message for the bridge crew of the Vienna. Shall I put it on the viewscreen?”

“Please do.” Yar nods, and turns to the screen. After a brief pause, the image of Admiral Leila Johnson appears on screen. She’s one of the newly appointed Admirals - Yar was there at the ceremony where she was given her rank. With a stony, serious expression, she explains that there’s been a natural disaster on Meinar VI, a class-M planet at the edge of discovered space. Yar listens on, with sympathy for the refugees, who will have to evacuate to the nearest habitable planet. But there’s more, Admiral Johnson says. “Premature scans of that sector have shown that there are habitable planets in that region, which has not been charted yet as of now.”

“And my orders are to find a habitable planet for the refugees to settle?” Yar reiterates. “Admiral, are there no other planets in the region that have been confirmed to be habitable?”

“I’m afraid not. The planets in the Marion System are all ice planets, except for Meinar VI, which is close enough to their sun to be habitable. Scans by the USS Delta have shown that the planets in the next system, the Veonia System, have temperatures that are sustaining life. However,” the Admiral pauses to take a breath, “Delta was destroyed by a Romulan freighter when passing through the area. They did not report any more additional information about the Veonia System.”

At the mention of the word ‘Romulan’, the whole bridge seems to flinch. Commander Jamin steels herself, clenching her fists.

“We shall follow our orders.” Yar replies. The screen blanks out. Glancing at her console, Yar locates the position of the planet.

“Set a course for Meinar VI, Commander Jamin,” orders Yar. “Engage.”

A chime sounds, indicating that the shift is over.

“We should go,” Troi indicates for Yar to step down. She’s very aware of Yar’s tendencies to overwork herself, and she’s determined to have that happen as little as possible, especially on a day like this. They’ll reach Meinar VI in eighteen hours, and it’s a huge operation.

Tasha hands over the bridge to the night crew, and leaves the bridge with Deanna. The turbolift is empty, silent except for the whirring of the machinery moving. Inching closer, Deanna slips her hand into Tasha’s. Tasha flinches slightly, but takes her hand gratefully.

“What are you afraid of? The whole crew knows we’re married. It’s not like it’s even recent news,” Deanna pokes, smiling. “We’ve been married for five years now, Tash.”

Tasha stifles a giggle at the mention of Deanna’s special nickname for her. “I can’t believe it’s been five years.”

“It feels longer.” Deanna reminisces. “Remember when we first started serving on the Enterprise together?”

“With Geordi and Worf and Beverly and all the others. I miss them.” Tasha sighs.

“Speaking of Beverly, this brings us to shore leave.” Deanna brings up. “We’re very lucky this time. Beverly and Jean-Luc are taking their shore leave at the same time, and they’ll be in Paris for a few days. Which, coincidentally, is the place which I’ve planned for us to visit.”

“Paris. City of Love.” Tasha says, giving a side glance at Deanna. “How are they, anyway?”

“Jean-Luc and Beverly? Engaged.” 

A smile spreads across Tasha’s face. “That’s wonderful of them.”

The doors open on Deck 5. Deanna leads Tasha by the hand, back to their quarters. Upon entering their shared quarters, the lights brighten, and Deanna walks over to the replicator first. “Two bowls of Feline Supplement 56.” Shimmering, the two bowls appear and she puts the bowls down on the floor. The two cats, Data and Geordi emerge from the bedroom and run for their food. Bending down, Tasha lightly pets Data, the tabby cat, on his head. His wide eyes stare curiously, before dipping down again to focus on his food. 

Tasha looks over at Geordi, the black cat. Human superstition has said that black cats are bad luck, but Geordi’s case would prove otherwise. To Deanna and Tasha, Geordi’s brought much joy and little trouble. Most importantly, he’s drawn them closer than ever before.

“I wonder how Data and Geordi feel about us having cats named after them.” Deanna says.

Tasha shrugs, getting to her feet. “I guess we’ll have to let them know.”

“Tasha.” Deanna says, her tone stern. “You’re worried.”

“I’m not,” denies Tasha, but there’s no lying to an empath. She knows.

“Would you want to talk about it?” Deanna asks, leading Tasha to the sofa.

Tasha clasps her hands. “It’s just that,” she pauses, “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Deanna probes.

“You know. Being a Starfleet officer means being in the line of duty. I don’t want to see you on the transporter pad for the last time because something happened to you on a planet’s surface and we can’t save you-”

“This has to do with what happened fourteen years ago. When you nearly died on that away mission to save me.” Deanna whispers. “Oh, Tasha.”

“I’ve seen more and more death as time goes on.” Tasha says, shivering. “I can’t bear to lose you.”

“It’s a risk we all have to take,” Deanna explains, grabbing Tasha’s hand. “Take a few deep breaths. You’re very tense, Tasha.”

“I know,” Tasha acknowledges. Trusting fully in Deanna, she follows the instructions. After a few minutes, Tasha lies back on the sofa, relaxed. “I’ll try to keep it off my mind.”

“Good.” Deanna smiles, her eyes full of stars, reflecting the web of constellations in the dark indigo fabric that lies just beyond the tempered glass window. “We should get some sleep.” Rising, she turns to the bedroom. “Come along,” Deanna says, smirking. “I’ll even undress you if you like.”

Tasha follows, biting her lip. She loves the way Deanna’s hands gently and skillfully meander across the fabric of her uniform, sending shivers all over her body. When Tasha stands in the corner of the bedroom, down to her undergarments, Deanna lets Tasha do the same. To Tasha, undressing Deanna is like unwrapping a gift. Usually, she does it eagerly and hastily, but this time she takes her time, removing each clothing like it’s an important ceremony to her. Which it is, because she’s undoing all the layers that is Commander Troi of the USS Vienna and coming down to the core, which in its very purest form, is her wife, Deanna. The wife she loves and adores. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” gasps Tasha, running her hands over Deanna’s shoulders, stopping to finger the strap of her lace brassiere. The look on Tasha’s face is one of astonishment, and of awe. In the fourteen years they’ve known each other, they’ve changed both physically and emotionally over the years. Though streaks of silver have started to cut through Deanna’s black, curly hair, they seem to only accentuate her timeless elegance and beauty.

“You’re always beautiful to me, Tasha.” Deanna leans in, her lips meeting with Tasha’s. It’s a short, chaste kiss, eventually. When they pull away, they can’t see each others’ expressions in the dark, but they both know that the other is giving them a lingering, loving glance, and that satisfies the roaring emotions in their hearts.

Tasha pulls the sheets over both of them as Deanna snuggles up against her, arms around Tasha’s hips. Yawning, Tasha says a muffled ‘good night’ before the exhaustion catches up with her, and she dreams of their good times together.


	3. Chapter 3

_Captain’s Log, Stardate 55631.2. We have arrived at Meinar VI, and we are currently making preparations to dispatch an away team to the surface to aid the evacuation of the refugees in an effective manner. This away team will be headed by First Officer, Commander Deanna Troi, and also comprises Chief Medical Officer Ke’lth and our Head of Security, Michelle Swift._

Yar watches as Troi, Ke’lth and Swift step onto the transporter pad. She holds her breath as the ensign behind her gets the transporter set up. Clutching her fists, she wills herself not to worry.

“We’re ready, Captain.” Lieutenant Swift reports, clipping her tricorder at her belt. She stops, brushing a lock of her fiery red hair out of the way, hooking it behind her ear. It falls back in her face, defeated.

“Tie your hair back,” advises Yar. “It makes things a lot easier.”

“Thanks.” says Swift. “Permission to beam down?”

“Authorised.” Yar gives the signal. “When you’re ready.”

“Energise,” says Commander Troi, and the dematerialisation sequence starts. Troi’s eyes are locked with Yar’s as she disappears from the transporter pad. Her hand comes up, as if wanting to wave goodbye. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. Everyone fades, bit by bit, and the change is so slow to Yar that she doesn’t even notice that Deanna’s not standing on the transporter pad when she blinks again.

Stepping back, Yar clears her throat. “Yar to Hurley. We’re supposed to hear from the away team in an hour, when they get to the temporary settlements.”

“Acknowleged.” Hurley returns, and the com-link goes silent.

“Captain,” the ensign running the transporter speaks up. “I can’t seem to get a lock on the away team.”

“Sorry?” Yar gets out, shocked at what she’s hearing. She walks over to the other side of the console, observing as the young officer shakily runs a few scans.

“They’re not on the planet surface.” He grits his teeth, one hand in his hair. “I can’t track them either. They seem to have disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Yar raises her voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Transporter malfunction.” He says. “They’ve been intercepted.”

“Yar to Bridge.” Yar barks, urgently. “Jamin, could you scan for life signs on the planet surface? We’re looking for Commander Troi, Doctor Ke’lth and Lieutenant Swift.”

A brief silence follows. “They aren’t on the planet surface.” Jamin returns. “Nor are they anywhere within two light years.” The confirmation that all this is very real and a nightmare comes true shakes Yar from the ground up, breaking into her will. She glances over the console again, but everything seems so wrong and she doesn’t know whether there’s a way to fix it. Her palms start to become clammy as they clench, and she’s feeling giddy. The buttons on the console look too large, and the bright colours jump out at her.

Yar takes a breath, trying to regain her composure. Turning to the ensign, she masks her panic behind a mask of dignified calm. “I want a report of this incident, and I want it on my desk by thirteen hundred hours. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” The young man trembles, clearly intimidated. Yar turns her attention away from the transporter console, and strides out of Transporter Room 1, tears starting to well up. Furious, she blinks them away, but they seem to be unyielding and her emotions start to take over. Her emotions beg at her as she resists, as she walks past all her subordinates to return to her office. After she gets to her ready room her cheeks are soaked, and she gives a strangled sob into her hands, willing herself to stop crying. It doesn’t work, but she speaks with a wavering cry in her throat. “Jamin, gather the senior officers. I’m having an emergency meeting.” She orders over the com-link, and closes her eyes. Grabbing a napkin from the box in the drawer of her table, she presses her tear-stained cheeks into it, drying them. She stands, walking around to stretch her muscles. She crosses and uncrosses her arms, willing her emotions to subside. She realises that she has to get ready for the meeting, so she continues pacing about the room as she reads through personnel files. Finally the chime sounds, signifying that the crew is ready and waiting in the conference room.

“It’s not over yet,” mutters Yar under her breath as she joins the rest. Everyone looks stoic and cold, and none of them seem to want to meet their Captain’s gaze.

“This morning, three of our officers, Commander Troi, Doctor Ke’lth and Lieutenant Swift went missing after a transporter incident, in which they were allegedly intercepted. Meanwhile, their duties will be temporarily left to the next in command, until they return.” Yar addresses. “As of now, I’m still waiting for Ensign Rutter’s report on the incident.”

“What about Meinar VI?” Jamin speaks up. “We can’t use the transporters now. It’s too risky, and until we know what went wrong this morning, something similar could occur again.”

“Agreed.” Yar nods. “How about the shuttlecraft?”

“I’ve had personnel working on that. They’re ready to go on your command.” Jamin announces.

Yar sits down, pressing on her combadge. “Yar to shuttlebay. Shuttle launch has been authorised.”

“Acknowleged, Captain.” An officer’s voice returns over the com-system.

Sitting back, Yar addresses the small circle of senior officers again. “And now, replacements.” It almost hurts her to say the word, knowing that someone else will take Deanna’s place on the bridge once the meeting ends. “Jamin, you shall be my first officer.” She glances down at personnel files again. “Our replacement Chief Medical Officer is Commander Alyssa Ogawa, and Lieutenant Alan Peters will be replacing Swift for the time being.”

“Lieutenant Peters?” Jamin raises her voice, then slinks back into her seat. “I apologise, Captain. I spoke out of turn.”

Yar raises a hand. “Do you have any concerns?”

“Lieutenant Peters was once a Borg.” Jamin scowls. “His implants could provide an avenue for corruption.”

“And you’d say that machine is easier to manipulate than organic matter?” Yar rebuts. “I think you’ll be proven wrong. But the point is, we don’t have time to go through rigourous selections. We need people to step up and fill those positions now, especially in a time of crisis.” She glances across the table again, taking in the faces of her fellow officers. “We’ll get them back. I swear.” Her voice wavers, and she knows that she’s going to break down again.

“Our meeting is over. Dismissed,” Yar ends. As the officers file out of the room, Yar stays behind. The stars rush by as curtains of bright lights streak across the window, blurring as her eyes fill with tears. No, Deanna is not gone and Tasha will not accept that Deanna is gone forever. There has to be an explanation for this, and she will get to the bottom of it, and do whatever it takes to get her back, along with the others.

On the table, her PADD beeps, with new information from Ensign Rutter.

* * *

  
Deanna jolts awake, in an unfamiliar place. Standing, she finds that her back’s sore, as if she’s been in that position for some time.

“The last thing I remember was that transporter,” Deanna says, glancing around. She makes out the vague shapes in the dark - it’s the bridge of a starship, and the power’s down. Her heart races at a million miles per hour as she frantically searches for Swift and Ke’lth. She finds them, unconscious on the raised horseshoe section that embraces the three seats in the centre. “Galaxy-class Starship,” notes Deanna. “Like the Enterprise I used to serve on.” Feeling for Swift’s pulse, Deanna’s relieved to find that she’s alive, and breathing hard.

Swift awakes when Deanna shakes her. She clutches the side of her forehead. “Damn, I’ve got a splitting headache.” She shakes her hair out, looking around. “Where the hell are we?”

Deanna looks back at her with a helpless look on her face, sighing. “I wish I knew.”


	4. Chapter 4

“No, no, dammit.” Distressed, Yar puts down her PADD. She still doesn’t know what exactly happened, or how she’s going to get Deanna back. Slamming the drawer, her pinky catches in the gap and she cries out sharply. She winces as she massages her finger, blowing on it.

The door chime sounds.

“Come in,” Yar announces, trying to act like nothing’s happened, which is exceedingly difficult to pull off when your finger feels like it’s on a hot stove.

“Captain.” Doctor Ogawa steps in, clearing the doorway. She comes forward, sitting on the chair when Yar invites her in.

“So, I’ve been receiving reports that,” Ogawa starts, but stops when Yar looks away. “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing.” Yar tries to fake a smile, keeping her hand under the table. Her cheeks redden - the pain’s not easy to conceal. After years of having access to painkilling hyposprays almost as and when she needs them, just a slight bit of pain almost seems unbearable.

“Let me see that.” Ogawa glances over at Yar’s hand. Reluctantly, Yar brings her hand over the side of the table and lets Ogawa examine it.

“Bleeding under the nail.” Ogawa chides. “I’ll have to get my dermal replicator, and edit the frequencies to work around the nail. But that’s not the main reason I’m here.”

“Oh?” Yar sits forward. “There’s something else?”

Ogawa pauses, considering her words. “Captain, it’s about your health.”

“What about my health?” Yar shoots back, nonchalantly.

Ogawa reads off her PADD. “Replicator logs suggest that you’ve increased your caffeine intake by five hundred percent during the course of this last week. It’s five extra cups of coffee every day, not enough for an overdose, but still concerning. The security logs reported that you haven’t been in your quarters for three days.” She leans forward, a sympathetic look on her face. “I’m aware that you’re very worried about Commander Troi, but it’s not worth ruining your health over.”

“So I’ve been sporadically drinking coffee throughout the day to keep myself awake.” Yar states. “You’ve made it sound like I take the five cups all at once.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.” says Ogawa. “And I need to make sure that you get the rest you need, or you’ll collapse.”

“I’ll rest when I find her.” Yar resists, stubbornly. “There’ll be a breakthrough.”

“It could take a long time. What did Ensign Rutter say, something about time anomalies?” Ogawa asks.

“There’s still hope for Commander Troi and the others.” Yar shifts in her seat and crosses her arms. “We just have to keep searching.”

“Look, if you don’t calm down and get some rest I’ll have to relieve you of duty.” Ogawa warns, her voice stern. “I’m doing this in the best interest of our ship and for you. A tired Captain can be prone to making all the wrong decisions.”

Yar leans back in her chair and lifts her left hand to cover her eyes. Considering for a moment, she finally speaks, shaking her head. “I need to find her. There’s no reason for me to give up now.”

“Then in the best interest of this ship and its crew, I, Chief Medical Officer Alyssa Ogawa, temporarily relieve you, Captain Natasha Yar of duty. Until you return from shore leave, I don’t want to hear another word from you about work. Understood?”

Yar sighs, before giving in. “Understood.” It’s hard to take in, that she’s just been forcibly pulled away from her mission. She rises, surveying the table. “I’ll get a pilot to take me to the nearest Starbase in a shuttlecraft. From there I’ll find transport to Earth. I’ll be there for two weeks, and by then the Vienna should be in orbit around planet X-2030, which will have its classification by then.”

“That’s right.” Ogawa nods. “Starfleet will inform you if there are any changes, or if the missing officers have been found.”

“Alright.” Yar removes her hand from over her eyes. “To be honest, Alyssa,” she sighs, “I didn’t think you were going to be serious about relieving me of duty.”

“I do what I have to do. It’s what kept Beverly’s sick bay running.” Ogawa smiles. “Have fun on shore leave, Captain.”

* * *

  
Ke’lth sits propped up against a wall, breathing hard. He hands the medical tricorder to Commander Troi, who scans him. His Klingon tones are gruff enough, but combined with the physical exertion of breathing with the injury, Ke’lth’s words are almost indecipherable.

Lieutenant Swift bends down, meeting them at eye level. “Bring me to sickbay,” pleads Ke’lth. “Two broken ribs, and risk of a punctured lung.”

“How did this happen?” Commander Troi asks. “Both Lieutenant Swift and I passed through the rift fine.”

“We were thrown out of the rift.” Ke’lth replies, stopping to cough. “You two passed through with only mild concussions. I was thrown against the console before I passed out.”

Commander Troi nods. “Computer, are there any life signs on board?”

“Three life signs. One Klingon, one human, one human-Betazoid hybrid.”

“Where is sick bay located?” Lieutenant Swift asks.

“Sick bay is located on Deck 14, Section 12.”

“Are all systems functioning normally?” Commander Troi inquires again, motioning for Lieutenant Swift to wait before dragging Ke’lth to their feet.

“Artificial gravity systems on decks 10 through 17 are offline. All other systems working.”

Commander Troi assists Lieutenant Swift in helping Ke’lth up, and the trio hobble towards the turbolift.

* * *

  
The sun is warm when Tasha arrives at her room at the hotel, tired from the flight. Her simple luggage hangs by her side. As she steps through the door, her PADD beeps with a message. With her heart in her throat, she’s expecting it to be the message that announces that Deanna is back, but is ultimately let down.

_We’ve arranged dinner. Meet us at the Ambience cafe at seven. It’s a simple affair, nothing fancy._

_J-L and B._

Tasha groans, sinking onto the bed. She’s got a few hours to kill before that, and she decides to unpack. The first thing that falls out of her luggage is her photograph of Deanna, which flutters gently to the ground like a feather. The breeze picks up, and the photograph wafts towards the open balcony door. Alarmed, Tasha jumps and reaches for the photograph. Her fingers, long and slender, catch the slim object between them just before it disappears over the edge of the balcony. She heaves a sigh of relief, and returns to her room, shutting the glass door behind her.

Deanna smiles back with the starlight in her eyes, reflecting off the gloss of the photo. Tasha remembers that photo well - they took it during their last shore leave together, when they went for a nice hover-skiing holiday on the slopes of Argra. A snow colony of the Federation, they had enjoyed themselves immensely interacting with other officers who had come from far and wide to wind down.

Sighing at the memory, Tasha glances back down at the photograph again.

Deanna’s grey-streaked hair is covered with the hood of her snow jacket, which is a rich royal purple. Deanna looks good in all colours, Tasha notes. Clasping her gloved hands, she looks regal as she does always. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, and her lips slightly chapped. Even if it’s just a photograph, it seems real enough to Tasha. She closes her eyes, and wishes that Deanna was actually there with her. No, she waves it off. She’s not a child any more, and wishing isn't going to do any good.

A tear rolls off her face, and splashes onto the collar of her shirt. “I miss you so much,” Tasha softly sobs, and tucks the photograph into her breast pocket. She lets herself sob openly - it’s the first time since she allowed herself to show any strong emotion regarding Deanna’s disappearance. Tucking her legs up, she curls up on the bed, relaxing her muscles. As she hazily breezes in and out of consciousness, it’s almost as if she can hear Deanna humming, soothing her to sleep.

* * *

  
Troi whispers a soothing lullaby to Ke’lth as she, Swift and Ke’lth traverse the zero-gravity environment of deck 14. Ke’lth’s forehead is slick with sweat, and he breathes heavily with every movement.

“You’ll make it there,” Swift assures, looking down the hallway. “Another three hundred meters to go.”

Ke’lth winces.

“Computer, is rerouting energy systems to gravity modifiers possible?” Troi asks.

“The available energy is only sufficient to stabilise artificial gravity in a class-B room or lower.”

“Sick bay.” Swift says. “Sick bays are usually class-B.”

“Great.” Troi replies. “We’ll just have to make it there.” Ke’lth tumbles through the atmosphere, narrowly clearing an overturned utility trolley. Troi dodges it too, but Swift doesn’t move fast enough. It clocks her in the knee, making her shout and curse in pain.

“I’m alright,” reports Swift. “Just bruises.”

Troi takes a deep breath, and forges forward.


	5. Chapter 5

Tasha looks up from her drink, and into the faces of her concerned friends. Swirling the amber brown liquid in the bottom of the cup, she takes another swig and enjoys the burn of the alcohol down the back of her throat.

“You’ve had enough.” Beverly chides, sliding the bottle away from her. “Synthehol and real alcohol are very different things.”

Tasha pouts, her face flushed. “You’re not my mother.”

“You’ve had a great deal of liquor to drown your sorrows in, but there comes a limit to everything.” Jean-Luc puts a hand on her shoulder, and gives her a knowing gaze. Something tells her that he’s done it in the past.

“We all have losses.” Beverly continues, pressing a napkin to her mouth, sombre. A beep sounds from under the table. Wincing at the crisp sound, Tasha coughs, squinting.

Jean-Luc takes his PADD from his satchel. Tasha can barely read the words **Incoming Message: Urgent** before he gets to his feet.

“Message from an Admiral. It’s important, I reckon.” He nods, and moves off to a quieter area to take the message.

After he leaves, Beverly leans in, lowering her voice. “It was the same, when I lost Jack. I never forgot him and sometimes it still hurts a little to think of him.”

“You saw his body. You knew he was dead.” Tasha states. “That’s what allowed to to move on.”

“Uncertainty hurts.” Beverly gives Tasha’s hand a little squeeze. “Take your time.”

“But you didn’t send him to his death. I appointed her to be on that away team.”

Beverly glances out of the cafe, where she spots her fiancee sitting alone on a bench. “Jean-Luc would know what it feels like.”

Tasha follows Beverly’s gaze, and she wonders how he could’ve dealt with the deaths he’d witnessed under his command.

“You know what uncertainty feels like, don’t you?” Tasha speaks up, almost in a whisper. “Remember the time where he was captured by-”

“Yes.” Beverly cuts her off before she can finish. Tasha doesn’t have to press on - she knows how Beverly’s feeling at this moment. Even though Tasha could’ve been referring to two separate incidents, the feeling of uncertainty was there both times, not only for Beverly, but for the whole crew. But it hit Beverly especially hard, just like how Deanna’s disappearance seemed to target her.

“She’s not gone, is she?” Tasha almost sobs into her glass.

Bringing an arm around Tasha’s shoulders, Beverly holds her as she trembles.

* * *

  
“Computer, activate artificial gravity systems in sickbay.” Troi yells. Immediately the gravity starts to kick in, and everyone is sent sprawling to the ground. Ke’lth cries out in pain as he lands on his side. Troi gets to her feet, and hauls Ke’lth onto the medical bed. Swift pushes herself to her feet, and digs through the cabinets for some ointment to treat her cuts and bruises.

“Activate Emergency Medical Hologram.” Troi orders. A little man appears before the medical bed, energetic and animated.

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency.” The Doctor gives his standard greeting, before something catches his eye. “Hey, stop that!” He walks over to Swift, and swats her hand away from the cabinets. “You’re not allowed to dig in there.”

“I just need some ointment for minor flesh wounds. You got any?” Swift shoots back, gruntled.

“Those are in here,” The Doctor grunts, walking across sickbay to grab a tub from a cabinet with a sliding door. “You could’ve unleashed Oxytriodine into the air. It’s lethal in large doses!” He tosses the tub across. “Take that.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Swift catches it, and starts to slather the ointment on.

“Doctor,” Troi interjects, gesturing towards the medical bed. “Your patient.”

“Now, what seems to be the problem?” The Doctor whips out his tricorder.

Ke’lth coughs. “Broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung. But you could run scans yourself just to confirm.”

“Your diagnosis is correct. I might have to perform surgery.” The Doctor confirms.

“Thank you.”

“You’re much more civil than most other Klingons I’ve met in my time,” The Doctor adds. “No offence.”

“None taken.” Ke’lth wheezes.

The Doctor turns back to Troi and Swift. “You two can wait in my office.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Troi says, gratefully. Ushering Swift out of the med bay, Troi breezes over to the computer behind the desk.

“You can get access to that?” Swift asks, perching on the corner of the table.

“I can try,” Surmises Troi. “Computer, read access code Troi-Beta-Gamma-Seven.”

 _“Access code authorised.”_ The computer beeps, and the screen flashes on.

**USS DELTA COMPUTER 3A-01**

“The Delta.” Swift gasps. “The one Admiral Johnson said went missing.”

“Yes.” Troi answers, and freezes. Deep down, she knows that something is not quite right. “She said it was destroyed by Romulans.”

“Well, we’re hiding out in sick bay of a functioning ship and not floating among bits of space rubble.” Swift puts out. “I guess not everything is as it seems.”

Troi blinks hard, sensing tendrils of fear creep up her spine. “There’s got to be a reason this ship is completely deserted.”

“Check personnel files.” Swift urges. “Maybe there’s something useful there.”

“Computer, access personnel files of the USS Delta.” Troi orders. The screen begins to scroll. Name after name flashes on the screen.

“Computer, open data file of Captain Miranda Collins.”

A bleep sounds, and the computer starts to display Collins’ particulars. But what particularly interests Troi is the field that says ‘status’. It’s left blank.

“Computer, what is the status of Captain Collins?” asks Troi, leaning forward.

_“Unknown.”_

“Explain,” probes Troi. “When was _her last status updated?”_

_“No further information available.”_

Swift shifts slightly on the table, crossing her arms. “What about the rest of the crew?”

“Hang on.” Troi clicks a few buttons. “This displays all the statuses of all the crew members that served on the Delta.” She raises an eyebrow. “All blank.”

“It’s like someone’s trying to cover it all up.” Swift offers. “Just a suggestion.”

“It could be anything.” Troi sighs. “In fact, we could be in an parallel universe that’s different from the one we came from.”

She gets an idea. “Computer, display the personnel file of Natasha Yar.”

**File: Natasha Yar**

Troi scrolls down.

Last held rank: Lieutenant

“Continue scrolling.” Swift pushes on.

Status: Deceased (Stardate 41602)  
Cause of death: Heavy synaptic damage

Troi stops, bringing a hand to hide her gasping mouth. She turns to Swift. “I’m almost certain we’re in an alternate universe.”

Swift nods. “What about us? Would there be any implications if we were to run into our parallel-universe selves?”

“Intersecting timelines wasn’t my field of speciality at the Academy.” Troi frowns, and looks for her own personnel file.

 **File: Deanna Troi**  
Last held rank: Commander  
Last starship served on: NCC 1701-E

“The Enterprise-E.” Troi muses. “Not bad.”

“Why would you turn down a post on a Sovereign-class starship?” Swift asks. “Seems like a damn good place to be.”

Troi thinks for a while. “Love.” Her heart trembles at the thought that Tasha, in her universe, is looking for her.

“I can’t sense her right now, but she must be hurting.” Troi makes a passing comment. “Anyway, we should search you up.”

Swift presses on the keypad. “I’m not here.”

“Not here?” Troi raises an eyebrow.

Swift sighs, almost in defeat. “Try searching on the Infoweb instead. Not Starfleet’s database, but the galactic one.”

Troi tries again. “Still nothing, Michelle.”

Swift comes down from her spot on the table and looks over Troi’s shoulder. “Try searching for the name Andromeda Orion Layson.”

“Andromeda Orion Layson.” Troi mutters under her breath, smiling slightly. “What a name.”

“Our last name is common, so my parents wanted to make me stand out.” Swift says. “I changed my name legally when I got older.”

“Andromeda. Orion.” Troi reiterates. “Like the constellations.”

“My parents were pop stars. They wanted something big and flashy.” recalls Swift. “They didn’t like it when I changed my name, or went into Starfleet.”

“You must’ve had a very interesting childhood.” says Troi, turning back to the screen. She brings up the most recent article about Layson.

_Andromeda has second child, separates from husband. Juicy details!_

Swift grimaces. “I can’t imagine that that’s me.”

“What, having children?” Troi pokes.

“Being on the cover of every popular tabloid in the Alpha quadrant.” Swift grumbles. “Fame, not really my thing.”

Troi laughs at Swift’s quip, but before she can say anything more, the Doctor comes shuffling into the office. “The surgery was successful, but your friend needs a bit of recovery time. He’ll have to stay in Sick Bay for another eighteen hours at least while I monitor his condition.”

“Thanks.” Troi smiles, clasping her hands. In the corner of her eye, she finds that Swift has moved away from the desk, and is prodding the replicator on the wall. At this, Troi’s stomach rumbles. It’s lunch time.

“Doc, does this even work any more?” Swift scowls, almost punching the controls. “Nothing seems to work.”

“The replicators have been offline for more than three months.” The Doctor replies.

“What happened to the crew?” questions Troi. “There hasn’t been anyone around.”

The Doctor shrugs. “I’m not very sure either. I haven’t seen a single crew member in three months.”

“Did everyone just leave?” Swift asks.

“I’m just the medical hologram. I don’t know the whereabouts of everyone on this ship.” He narrows his eyebrows. “Speaking of crew, who are you? I don’t recognise any of you.”

“Commander Deanna Troi, Lieutenant Michelle Swift.” Troi introduces. “And Ke’lth is out there on your medical bed.”

“Funny.” The Doctor sighs, then shakes his head. “You weren’t on the crew list.”

“Doctor.” Troi’s voice goes into a serious tone. “We aren’t from here at all. We were transported here in a transporter accident.”

“From which ship?” He asks, walking over to the computer.

“The USS Vienna.” replies Swift.

The Doctor shakes his head. “Doesn’t exist.” He looks up. “You’re from a parallel universe, either that, or you’re lying.”

“We don’t have any intention to deceive you.” Troi holds her ground. “In fact, we’re just looking for a way to get back to our universe.”

He sighs again. “I can only help you within the reaches of sickbay.”

“Are there crew quarters we can occupy for the night that aren’t under security clearance?” Troi asks. “That would be a great help if you could locate some for us.”

The Doctor takes a breath. “Unfortunately, I cannot give you access to crew quarters as they are under security clearance. That would be going against the code of conduct.”

Swift bites the edge of her thumb. “We’ll have to manage.” She pauses, before speaking to the computer. “Computer, is there a safe route from Sickbay to Engineering?”

_“The quickest route has been downloaded to Computer 3A-01.”_

“What are you doing?” Troi asks, watching Swift settle herself at the computer.

Swift gives an impatient huff. “Making this place livable, starting with the replicators. You coming?”

Troi deliberates whether to stay or leave. On one hand, she’s adamant to leave Ke’lth alone in Sickbay, or at least with the EMH she’s not very sure can be trusted wholly. On the other hand, it would be dangerous for Swift to go alone, considering that a thousand crewmen disappeared from this ship with no explanation whatsoever and that very same menace could be lurking deep in the shadows.

“I’ll come with you,” finally decides Troi, readying her phaser.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

_The week later_

“All the refugees are still aboard.” Commander Jamin reports. “Living conditions are livable for another three months or so, but no more.”

“How many are there?” Yar asks.

Jamin reads off her PADD. “Three hundred and fifty-six. That’s twice the number of our crew.”

Yar nods. “How is the housing situation?”

Jamin’s forehead wrinkles, and it brings to attention that her forehead is clear of the brow ridges that mark most Romulans. In fact, Jamin could very well pass as human (her father was human, according to Starfleet records), except for her ears, which are delicately pointed at the ends. Her long hair, up in a ponytail, is far from the conventional way the Romulans wear theirs, which also strikes curiosity in Yar.

“Not good. We’ve had to reallocate quarters.” Jamin says, pausing slightly. “If you don’t mind, Captain, Commander Hurley and I have temporarily taken up residence in your quarters.”

Yar seems taken aback for a moment, but relaxes and shifts in her chair. “It’s an emergency. Measures have to be taken.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Jamin says, sternly. “Also, have you managed to read Lieutenant Ang’s report on Planet X-2030?”

Yar shakes her head. “No, not yet. I just got back an hour ago.”

“My apologies, Captain.” Jamin replies. “It had slipped my mind that no news reached you when you were on shore leave.”

“Even if news had reached me I would’ve been too busy to do much about it.” lies Yar. She tries cracking a smile, but deep inside she knows that all she did on shore leave was lie around in the hotel, drunk on cheap wine and still denying that Deanna’s disappearance ever occurred. She would’ve been drunk the whole way if Beverly didn’t show up at her door on the last day and insisted that they spend the day together. It was still uneventful, with Beverly and her sitting under a drab grey sky as Jean-Luc futilely tried to feed the ducks. (The ducks weren’t hungry.)

“Captain.” Jamin’s serious, commanding voice snaps her back to reality.

Yar coughs. “Sorry.”

“We found it to be a class K planet. Life could possibly be sustained there with pressure drones.” Jamin explains. “Starfleet has announced that a science ship will be accompanying us to Planet X-2030, which we’ve named Teloi I.”

“I wasn’t informed.” Yar frowns. “Has Starfleet announced the specifications of this mission?”

“Reports came in this morning.” Jamin sifts through her PADD. “We will be accompanied by the USS Newton. The Newton is currently under command of Captain Geordi La Forge.”

Yar looks up. “An old friend of mine.”

Jamin nods. “Then you two will get along very well, I suppose. The Newton will be joining us in two days.”

“How long would it take to construct the pressure domes?” considers Yar.

“Captain La Forge recommends a month, at the very least. Settling the refugees into their new home will be difficult, as well.” Jamin responds. “But their old planet is uninhabitable now.”

Yar agrees, sadly. “Relocations not pleasant for anyone.” She leans back in her chair. “Is there any news of the three missing officers?”

“None as of now.” Jamin takes on a more sympathetic tone. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“You don’t need to be.” Yar shrugs off. “I should’ve gotten a diagnostic run before they went down there.”

“It was a time anomaly, Captain. Being able to accurately predict them is extremely difficult, almost impossible.” Jamin consoles. “You’re not alone in this. The ship’s morale hasn’t been high lately.”

“And what about you? You had quite an amicable working relationship with Troi.” Yar points out.

“I miss her.” Jamin states. “As do you, Captain.”

“Yes, I do.” Yar finds herself choking on her words, closing herself off. “It isn’t the first time I’ve lost people dear to me.”

“Neither is it for me.” Jamin lowers her voice. “My children are still on Romulus.”

“You have children?” Yar is torn, wanting to know more.

“I don’t know whether they’re still alive, Captain,” trembles Jamin. “But I’m glad I left Romulus.” She goes silent. “I could talk more, but I would like to get back to my post now.”

“Dismissed,” allows Yar. After Jamin leaves, Yar wants to do nothing but toss and turn, but the time for grieving was over. There’s still a lot of work to do, and sitting around won’t do anything about it. She’s about to start on reading Ang’s report on Teloi I when the alarms start to sound. The red alert signal blares throughout the ship, and Yar rushes out onto the bridge.

“Lieutenant Peters.” Yar addresses the Head of Security. “What’s the situation?”

“Romulan warbird, decloaking.” Peters scans over the controls. “Off our bow, Captain.”

“Are they hailing?” Yar inquires.

Peters shakes his head. “No. Shall we hail them, sir?”

“On screen.” orders Yar, and the screen blinks to life with the image of a Romulan commander.

“I am Captain Natasha Yar of the Federation Starship Vienna.” Yar greets. “What is your intent here?”

“Commander Rak Jamin, serving the Romulan Star Empire.” The Romulan on the other ship shoots back, glancing off to the side. “We are here in search of valuable information, especially regarding something that was stolen from us.”

“We are a Federation starship.” Yar replies, her voice stern. “We have stolen nothing from you.” She glances away from Commander Rak Jamin, and sees something in the corner of the screen. Two Romulan children, not older than ten. They do not cower, but they stand silently, stiff and emotionless.

“You might have not, Captain, but one of your officers have.” Commander Rak Jamin reveals, glancing to Yar’s left. “Kaz. My dear wife. Or should I say, ex-wife.”

Commander Kaz Jamin’s hands tremble, but she remains silent, with quiet dignity.

“The Romulan Star Empire has accused you of treason, Kaz. You will come with us back to Romulus.”

“To be tried and executed?” Kaz says, urgently. “There is no proof that I am guilty of any crime.”

“You know what I’m talking about, my dear.” Rak says, his voice dripping with venom. “Please cooperate, and perhaps the Romulan Star Empire shall grant you a swift death, free of humiliation.”

The bridge is silent, except for the distant humming from the engines.

Two jolts shake the bridge, and it registers in Yar’s mind that the Romulans have opened fire on the Vienna.

“Shields are holding, for now.” Commander Hurley reports.

“That was a warning shot,” Rak informs, and raises a hand to signal to the weapons officer. “Now come with us.”

“Don’t fire on them, Captain.” Kaz pleads, softly. “My children are on that ship.”

Settling in her chair, Yar bites down on her lip, deep in thought. “Give us an hour, Commander.” She finally announces. Grudgingly, Rak agrees, and Yar and Kaz retreat into Yar’s ready room.

“Why are they after you?” Yar asks, pacing the room. “Please tell me the truth. You know I’d always be on your side, as your captain and...friend.”

“The information was planted.” Kaz replies. “All they want is to execute me as a traitor.”

“Planted?” Yar raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I have enemies, Captain.” Kaz answers. “But I destroyed any evidence that I even had possession of the information to begin with. Covered my traces.”

“Why formulate this elaborate plan when they can take you in for deserting the empire? For running away all those years ago?” Yar asks.

“I am not a formal Romulan citizen, Captain.” Kaz bows her head. “I am the child of a Federation prisoner, and a commoner mother.”

“They never treated us like anything, Captain.” Kaz sighs. “We half-breeds were no different from slaves. Then they were afraid of their offspring being tainted by human blood. Their goal was to wipe us out. I only survived so long because my mother hid me. I underwent surgical alterations to my face just so that I could be safely married off. Then I escaped because there was no place for me there.”

“As long as they find no traces of the information you supposedly possess, they will have no reason to arrest you, is that correct?” Yar considers.

“What information, in particular?” Yar inquires.

“Information on their new space-field manipulator.” reveals Kaz.

Yar thumbs her chin. “If we were to run scans, would we find that all files in your PADD and computer databanks would all originate from Federation sources?”

“Yes.” Kaz nods. “But it would not be wise to run scans now. The Romulan Warbird could be monitoring every computer process that is currently running on this ship.”

Yar sighs. “I sincerely hope what you have told me is true.”

“So do I.” Kaz replies.

Yar’s com-badge gives a chirp. “Hurley to Captain Yar. The Romulans have hailed us again.”

Yar exits her office, with Kaz Jamin in tow. “Take heart,” Yar whispers to her first officer, before they step onto the bridge. With her heart fluttering at her throat, Yar steels herself and gets ready to face Rak Jamin, and the truth.

* * *

  
Troi awakes from her nap when Swift taps on her shoulder. Yawning, she stretches out in the chair in the centre of the bridge.

“It’s not easy, running a galaxy-class starship with a total crew of three.” Swift says. “We need to find help soon.”

“Are there any other planets in the sector?” Troi inquires.

Ke’lth reads off a science station. “Yes, there seems to be an planet that it’s inhabited. If we head there at maximum warp, we will reach there in twenty hours.”

“Set a course then, Doctor Ke’lth.” Troi commands.

Ke’lth nods, and turns back to his station. Troi turns to Swift. “You should get some rest.”

“I will.” agrees Swift. “But I think I’ll do one last thing.”

“What’s that?” Troi raises an eyebrow.

“The scanners indicate that one of the bio-neural gel packs might be experiencing a malfunction.” Swift reports. “I would like to head down to give a check before I end my shift.”

“Permission granted.” Troi gives the green light, and Swift starts to remove the clasps on the hatch to Jefferies Tube 23.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Commander Rak Jamin.” Yar states, standing. “We have come to a conclusion.”

“Which is?” Rak remains stoic, unmoving. Kaz watches, almost completely emotionless as well.

“Unless there is evidence that Kaz has any information you are willing to believe that she has taken from you, she would be innocent for the time being.” Yar states. 

“Who are you to say that she will be tried by the Federation’s Justice system?” Rak sneers. “This is a Romulan offence, after all.”

Yar shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “You claim she has information. And when was this?”

“Yes, information that is strictly classified. The transmission that was sent to Kaz Jamin was sent to her two months ago.” Rak returns.

“If Kaz Jamin were to receive this supposed information, where would she able to do it from?” Yar asks. 

“Are you playing games with me, Captain? Hurry up or I shall fire on you again, and I will be less kind this time.” 

Yar continues. “She would only be able to do it from this starship. Our ship’s logs will indicate that Kaz Jamin has not left this ship for three months and fifteen days.” 

“And your point, Captain?” Rak huffs, impatiently.

“Whatever information she may have received would result in traces in our computer databanks. In fact, we would be alerted immediately if a file from a Romulan source entered our databanks.” Yar explains. “If you run a scan of Kaz Jamin’s, computer and PADD databank, you will find that all her files originate from Federation sources.”

“Captain.” Commander Hurley, the head of Operations, speaks out. “It would not be wise to let the Romulans have access to our files during the scanning.”

“I’ve taken that into consideration, Commander.” Yar takes a deep breath. She nods. “You may proceed.”

“Scanning files of Personnel 5153-RJ. Commander Hurley announces. Scan complete.”

“Nothing but Federation files, Commander.” A bridge officer on the Romulan vessel shouts. Rak Jamin’s expression is unchanging, but even Yar can tell that he’s clenching his jaw.

“Thank you for your time, Commander.” Yar raises a hand, and urges Hurley to cut the connections. “Stand down, and get ready to retreat.”

“Aye, sir.” The helmsman replies. “Retreating.”

Yar sits down in her chair, shaking. 

“What have I done.” She mutters, under her breath.

“Captain.” Hurley speaks up. “I would want to question why you did let the Romulans scan our files, given that it could pose a potential security risk.”

“For Commander Jamin’s case, it shouldn’t have.” Yar explains. “She came to me a few weeks ago and inquired about having new encryption software installed. The engineering team has come up with a solution, and we have implemented it.”

“Since when?” Hurley crosses his arms. “We weren’t informed.”

“This morning, when I got back on board.” Yar grits her teeth. “Sorry.”

“Captain, could I request to converse with you privately?” Hurley informs.

Yar nods. “In my ready room, Commander.”

Hurley opens his mouth even before the doors to the ready room close. “Captain, could I speak frankly?”

Yar nods. “Proceed.”

“I personally disagree, to a strong extent, with your actions regarding the Romulan encounter.” Hurley spits out, brutally honest. “It was not in the best interest of Starfleet to allow them access to our files. It wasn’t in our best interest either for you to activate the new encryption software without informing us beforehand.”

Yar gives an audible sigh, and buries her face in her hands. “I thought so too. I wasn’t thinking.” She pauses. “Commander, do you think I’m a bad Captain? Be honest.”

“You’re normally capable of handling your usual duties.” He hesitates.

“And because my wife goes missing, I have become slave to my emotions and I’m unable to think objectively.” She continues. Rising from her seat, she faces the window, looking as the stars streak by.

“Captain, you must understand, you should be given time to grieve, yes, but there is work to be done.” Hurley urges. 

“What are you going to do about that? Relieve me of duty? Report me to Starfleet?” Yar’s voice rises. 

“I’m sure that you’re well aware of the responsibilities that come along with being a Captain.” 

Yar snaps. “Commander Hurley, I’m well aware of your upbringing as an Admiral’s son, but you do not have the right to address me as if you were an Admiral.”

Hurley shrugs, mockingly. “Wait and see, Captain.” He turns and leaves in a huff, without waiting for Yar’s dismissal.

Enraged, Yar almost slams the drawer shut again, but stops herself. Shaking her head, she heads to the holodeck, determined to let off some steam.

* * *

“There’s a body in here.” Swift gestures to the Jefferies tube, breathing hard. 

“A body?” Ke’lth looks up from his station. He blinks, hard. “Let me get to it.”

“No,” Troi insists. “The EMH recommends that you complete your therapy sessions with him before you engage in any physically vigourous activity.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I think I’ll manage.” Ke’lth insists. Troi gives a sigh. Ke’lth’s the most stubborn person she knows, but stubborn in a good way.

“It could help us find out what happened to the ship,” suggests Swift. “There seemed to be a clear blue precipitate on the body.”

“Precipitate?” Ke’lth turns back from the Jefferies Tube. “Solid or liquid?”

“Seemed like a fluid to me.” Swift shrugs.

“Did you come into contact with the body or the precipitate?” Troi asks.

Swift shakes her head. “Thank God, no.”

“I’ll have to return to sick bay to get a biohazard suit, and some apparatus to store the precipitate in.” Ke’lth reports, and leaves the bridge.

Troi glances over at Swift, her empathic senses on full alert. Something’s hammering at her, and she doesn’t know whether it’s Swift’s fear or her own.

“You’re greatly alarmed,” Troi notes, placing a hand on Swift’s upper arm. Swift shivers, grimacing.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” grumbles Swift. “I’m not supposed to be scared of these things. I’m supposed to be the head of Security who deals with threats firsthand, and not the poor cadet who heads in the opposite direction at the speed of light.”

“Once in a while, people do get scared. We’re in an unfamiliar environment, and an unusual one. Situations like these tend to keep us all on edge.” 

“I just can’t wait to go home.” Swift groans, throwing her head back and yawning. “Don’t you miss home?”

An emptiness strikes at Troi’s heart, but she doesn’t push it away. She’s spent all week repressing that feeling, trying to keep focused on the immediate tasks at hand. 

“Tasha’s out there. Maybe she’s looking for us.” Troi wants to shrink into a small ball. Counselling people is different from feeling the emotions firsthand, and she knows that.

“And what if they think we’re dead?” Swift drops the question nobody wants to ask. She brushes her hair out of her eyes, and Troi can see that she’s on the verge of crying. “I’m just so tired.”

“You should rest.” Troi replies. She turns back to the big viewscreen, the stars still dancing across the sky as they normally do. She brings her attention to the ring on her left hand, and sighs deeply as she twists it.

“Knowing Tasha, I don’t think she’ll give up that easily. I have faith in her.” Troi suggests, optimistically. Deep down, there’s that small twinge of doubt. She fights against it, pushing it away.

Oh, Tasha, if only I could find you. Her mind searches, thoughts winding. Maybe she could attempt to send a telepathic dream link tonight, but it would only reach Tasha if she was lucky.

* * *

Another vase smashes as Tasha brings the bat around, clenching her teeth at the sound of the shatters. She picks one of the bigger shards up and throws it upon the ground again, letting loose a cry. Blinking the tears out of her eyes, she finds that her hands have been stained with fresh blood, the source being numerous shallow cuts on her palms. It’s almost satisfying to see the broken shards of porcelain, but not quite.

She’s so busy she doesn’t even notice Kaz standing behind her, and almost swings the bat into her. She stops in the nick of time, her cheeks flushed and tear-stained.

“What are you doing here?” Tasha demands. “I thought I overrode the privacy controls.”

“You didn’t.” Kaz explains. “You forgot.” She reaches out for Tasha’s hands. “Let me see.”

Tasha stubbornly turns her back to Kaz, crossing her arms. “You don’t need to help me. There’s nothing wrong with me. I just wanted to let off some steam, after all.”

“Anger is a stage of grief. Recovery is, in most cases, not instant, nor is it linear. I, for one, think you need to be given more time to grieve.”

“She’s not gone forever.” Tasha bites back on her words. “There’s a possibility that she’s out there, maybe in another timeline. We can still get them back.”

“A traumatic experience such as this could take years to recover from.” Kaz reaches out.

Tasha snaps, voice rising in a crescendo. “Would you stop accepting that they’re gone?” 

“They aren’t. But there’s still work to be done, and people need to understand that you’re having a tough time juggling your work and your emotions.” 

“I wish I could talk to Deanna about this. With her around, we didn’t need a counsellor.” Tasha recalls the times Deanna helped her through with her trauma. She remembers the countless nights where memories of her childhood came back to her and she could do almost nothing but cry, but Deanna was never away from her side. Deanna, Deanna, Deanna. The main source of stability in her chaotic life.

“I wonder how she must be feeling right now.” Tasha says, out loud.

“She wouldn’t want to see your hands in this state.” Kaz points out. “She wouldn’t want you to be hurting yourself. She’d want you to carry on, with your fierce strength.”

Tasha looks down at her blood-stained hands, and chokes back tears. “She’d want me to continue doing my work to the best of my ability. That’s what she loved in me. I tried my best at everything I put my hand to.”

“Come on.” Kaz urges, turning to leave the holodeck. “Those hands aren’t going to patch themselves.”

Tasha reluctantly accepts treatment, and as Doctor Ogawa goes over her hands with a dermal regenerator, Tasha warns Ogawa to swear the incident to secrecy, to which Ogawa sheepishly nods. 

After returning to her quarters, Tasha stays in the shower for a long time, so long that Kaz has to check that she’s okay. Snapping out of her own thoughts, Tasha dresses, carefully avoiding Deanna’s nightdresses. Kaz offers to tuck her into bed. As the sheets are drawn over her weary, tired body, Tasha regrets this decision. It makes her feel weak and vulnerable, like a young sapling who can’t take care of themselves.

Pity, it seemed, could possibly be the worst thing a person could feel towards you.

Rolling over, Tasha drifts into sleep, with her conjured-up version of Deanna’s voice.

_Tasha. Tasha._

Suddenly, it all feels very real, and Tasha doesn’t know how exactly to deal with it.


	8. Chapter 8

Tasha finds herself falling. Not just falling asleep, but physically falling.

Down, down, down.

As the wind whips around her and comes to a stop, Tasha finds herself in a dark place. Surprisingly, she’s awfully calm for a person who just went through a mental breakdown just an hour ago.

_“Tasha?”_

“Deanna,” sobs Tasha, looking around frantically. Deanna’s voice is clear and crisp, as if she’s standing right in front of Tasha.

_“I’m trying my best to maintain the telepathic link,”_ Deanna’s voice sounds again, and a faint image of her in uniform appears, like a mirage. Tasha moves towards the image, but stops, skeptical.

“How would I know you’re really Deanna?” Tasha demands. She pulls her arms around herself, and she’s hoping that this entity, whoever or whatever it is, doesn’t take advantage of her vulnerability.

Tasha then feels a warm brushing over her cheekbone. Trying not to recoil immediately, she concentrates on the rhythm. It moves back and forth, in a particular way. _Twice back, once forth, and then a circle. Repeat._ It sinks into her, and Tasha relaxes, knowing that she’s found Deanna. Nobody could know her that well. She thinks back to all those nights where anxiety overcame her and it made it absolutely impossible to sleep. Deanna would stay up with her, rubbing against her back to sooth her to sleep. A traditional Betazoid technique, that’s how Deanna would explain it away, but Tasha thinks it’s more than that, from the slight hiccup in Deanna’s tone of voice whenever she said it. Tasha occasionally liked to pretend that Deanna thought up that pattern just for her. So that things would seem a little more routine.

“Deanna.” The word escapes from Tasha’s lips like a sigh of relief. “I miss you.”

_“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t.”_ Deanna returns, playfully. Her image flickers. _“I’m sure things are alright on your side for now.”_

“The universe hasn’t ended yet, but I need you back.” Tasha smiles. “Where are you?”

_“The USS Delta. The one that went missing.”_ Deanna reports. She moves closer. “ _We’re in an alternate timeline.”_

“The others? Ke’lth? Michelle? Are they alright?” Tasha asks, but she just wants to get past this part, and get back to Deanna and how she’s doing.

_“We’re all fine. It’s just that,”_ Deanna pauses. _“The ship’s empty.”_

“Empty?” Tasha raises an eyebrow. “That’s not very typical of the Federation to abandon their ships.”

_“I’m a bit scared, Tasha,”_ Deanna reveals, hesitantly. _“Something doesn’t feel quite right.”_

“Oh.” Tasha feels a twinge in her heart, and she lets out the word almost like a concerned cry. Deanna’s image wavers further. Deanna didn’t even have to tell Tasha that she was scared for Tasha to sense it for herself. During these telepathic dream links, their thoughts would lay bare before each other, two minds melding.

Deanna grimaces, clutching the sides of her head. _“Tasha, I can’t keep this link for much longer.”_ She looks up at Tasha, tears in her eyes. _“I guess this is where we say goodbye, for now.”_

Tasha observes as Deanna fades completely, and the world blanks out. Tasha sleeps, dreamlessly, until the morning.

* * *

  
The meowing starts early, and wakes the whole chamber from their sleep. Yar grabs a distressed Geordi off the bed, and walks to the replicator. She stretches as the computer processes the command for Feline Supplement 28, and is surprised to find that she feels more rested than she has been for the past few years.

“Good morning, Commander,” Yar greets a sleepy-eyed Jamin as she moves past Yar to get to the toilet. Hurley is nowhere to be seen, and Yar assumes that he probably didn’t return to their shared quarters last night, after their argument. Yar silently vows to put him in his place one day.

“Data,” Yar whispers, luring the timid cat from behind the sofa. Tentatively, the black cat peers around the edge of the sofa, before springing into a run for the food. Satisfied, Yar gives Data a nuzzle behind the ears before starting the day.

The day passes smoothly, and Yar reads reports and makes her rounds as she does always. It’s been a productive day, and when she finally sits down in her chair in her ready room, her feet unclench and relax. Smiling, she scans the room, and it feels like nothing’s going wrong for once, she’s finally gotten hold of her emotions, and everything will be fine.

“Everything will be fine,” repeats Yar, rocking back and forth. But as the words leave her lips suddenly everything is not fine, and the emotions within her rise in a cacophony. Thoughts race through her mind like starships in the dark sky. Was that all real, or was it just my imagination? The thought troubles Yar. It was an intimate moment they shared, that telepathic dream link. It if hadn’t been Deanna, she would’ve considered it a violation. Having your thoughts completely exposed to someone could be the most vulnerable thing you could ever do, Yar considers.

The chime at the door sounds, but Yar ignores it for a while, deep in thought.

The chime goes a second time, before Yar hears the tapping on the keypad. Jamin steps in, looking concerned. “Captain, are you alright?”

Yar shakes herself out of her thoughts. “Yes, alright. Just a bit deep in thought, after all. Was there something you needed?”

“The Newton is arriving earlier than expected, in about three hours.” Jamin reports. “Would a reception be necessary?”

“We would have to bring forward the reception we planned for tomorrow,” Yar muses. “That would take a lot of adjustments, and I doubt we’d be ready in three hours.”

“Tomorrow it is then.” Jamin nods.

Yar takes a breath. “Then I’ll communicate with La Forge over subspace when he arrives.”

“Yes.” Jamin notes. “Captain, permission to speak freely?”

Yar stops fidgeting and sits up straight. “Proceed.”

“You’re restless today.” observes Jamin. “But you were so chipper this morning.”

“Deanna and I shared a telepathic link last night.” Yar reveals. Noticing the slightly skeptical look on Jamin’s face, she adds, “or at least I thought I did.”

“Did you think it was her?”

“I’m fairly sure.” Yar confirms. “But just think!” she comments, with conviction. “This telepathic link could be invaluable to getting them home.”

“If we could find a possible way to open a link between our universe and the parallel universe they’re currently existing in.” Jamin reminds Yar of reality. “We still don’t know what caused this distortion, or how to replicate a similar scenario.”

“Captain La Forge used to be the chief engineer on the Enterprise, and we’ve come across time distortions before. Maybe he could have some input on this.”

“I think that he would be likely to sympathise with your situation.” Jamin assures. “He is your friend, after all.”

Yar nods, and turns to the computer monitor. “How are the refugees doing?”

“We’re trying our best to cater to their needs. The replicators don’t always have their local dishes on hand, but we’re trying to compromise.”

Finishing with the report, Yar turns off her monitor with a beep and stands. “I’m going to talk to the refugees. Would you like to come?”

Jamin almost smiles. “I’d like to.”

* * *

  
The mess hall is, in other words, a mess when Yar and Jamin arrive. Climate refugees, especially those from struggling human colonies, are not necessarily used to life on a starship. Things are done in the ways these refugees are used to, and Yar wonders whether it’s better to speak out. As she walks towards the replicator, her boots catch on one of the rugs that have been laid down on the floor as a makeshift mattress.

“Are there not enough quarters to share?” Yar asks Jamin.

“There used to. But disease started to spread. Dr. Ogawa is up to her neck in cases of the pox.” Jamin explains. “It’s made a comeback in several outlying colonies, although it was wiped out on Earth years ago.”

“And the pox is contagious.” Yar realises. “No wonder people aren’t sleeping in their bacteria-infested quarters.”

“We don’t have enough personnel on hand to clear the bacteria. We’ve quarantined section 2 of deck 6 for now.” says Jamin.

“And why didn’t you tell me?” insists Yar. “This could have gotten serious.”

“Sorry, Captain.” Jamin apologises, shifty.

“Something’s not right,” Yar surmises. “You’ve always been a trusty member of my crew, Jamin. What happened?”

Jamin shakes her head, and looks down at the floor. “Could we discuss this in private, Captain?”

“Later.” Yar sits at a table, and begins to converse with the lady sitting opposite. She’s in her mid-thirties, but looks older. The scorching sun that these people are so used to on Meinar VI has scorched her skin to a deep tan. Her eyes are sunken, her face hollow.

“I’ve had a normal life.” The lady, who has introduced herself as Mey, says. “Have been farming my whole life. Just to keep the children alive.”

“I don’t suppose it was enough to live on.” Yar comments.

Mey shakes her head. “Ever since we’ve gotten on this ship, your doctor has insisted on us eating some of what she calls ‘Federation Rations’. They’re supposed to be nutritious, but taste worse than anything I’ve ever tasted.”

Yar gives a small, hearty chuckle. “I’ve been there, done that.”

Mey raises her eyebrows. “But things will be different, right? After we settle on Teloi I.”

“I hear it’s going to be better. With climate control, you’ll be able to grow food throughout the year.” Yar assures.

“I’ll finally have money to spare,” Mey sighs, looking over at some well dressed people that have come along on the voyage, “like the businessmen and the doctors and the lawyers.”

Yar has to stop to remind herself, that even though poverty has been eliminated on Earth, it’s a lot harder to look after small, scattered colonies. Imbalances still happen.

“I’ll make sure it’ll be a better future for your people.” Yar finishes, giving Mey’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll stop by later.” She gets up, and leaves the table. A few more people give her small nods as she exits the mess hall, and turns down the corridor.

Yar turns to Jamin, her expression stormy. “As you were saying, Jamin?”

Jamin throws up her hands. “To be absolutely honest, Captain,” She lowers her voice, “I’ve been blackmailed.”

Yar bites the inside of her cheek, astonished. “Blackmailed? By whom?”

“I did warn you, Captain. I’ve got enemies.” Jamin states.

“Who are these enemies, Jamin?” Yar pushes. The duo step into the turbolift, and silence overcomes both of them save for the deep humming of the turbolift.

“It’s Hurley, sir.”

“Hurley?”

* * *

  
“Well, I do have some bad news for everyone.” Ke’lth looks up from the microscope. If Ke’lth didn’t have his Klingon ridges, his entire forehead would be scrunched up.

“Bad news?” Swift rolls her eyes. “Tell me something I didn’t know.”

“The bio-neural gel packs have been infected.” He announces. “With parasites.”

“The computer stated that there were only three life forms on board earlier.” Troi argues. “How did these parasites come about?”

“The computer was infected. These are nanoprobes. I suspect they might have infected the main computer.” He shakes his head. “They’re extremely resilient - I don’t think there is a feasible way to flush them out.”

“The Borg?” Troi cuts in. “But we wouldn’t get an unassimilated ship floating about in space.”

“You are right. These nanoprobes may be similar to the Borg, but not exactly.”

“Which could still pose quite a threat to us. Who knows what commands have been overwritten?” Swift considers. “The computer could depressurise the entire ship.”

“Which is exactly what happened.” Ke’lth stands from his station, and walks round to the stasis chamber. “I did an autopsy on the body that was found. Oxygen deprivation seemed to be the cause of death. If he wasn’t suffocated in the Jefferies Tube, it would have been the entire cabin depressurising. That’s my hypothesis on why the rest of the crew can’t be found. They were blown out of the ship.”

“Is there any evidence to back up your hypothesis?” Troi asks. “That’s quite a statement you’ve made.”

“According to ship logs, there was a brief blip in the oxygen content in the air three months ago. The level of oxygen decreased to zero sharply, but then rose again just as it fell. Sharply. Records of air pressure about the ship could also suggest that the ship had been depressurised at one point in time.”

Troi crosses her arms. “But there aren’t any airlocks on the bridge. There isn’t a reason why the bridge crew would’ve been sucked out with the rest of the crew.”

“That’s what puzzles me, Commander. But either way, it’s a trap.”

“There’s no telling what could happen to us if we continue to stay here.” Swift advises, cautious. “We could take a shuttlecraft and leave.”

“Not before we examine it for traces of the nanoprobes.” Troi agrees. “How long would it take?”

“Two hours for a full sweep.” Ke’lth estimates.

“Good.” Troi sighs. “Meanwhile, Lieutenant Swift and I will have to plan our flight route. It’s going to be a rocky ride.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Ke’lth straps himself into the chair in front of the console, grumbling. “I’m a doctor, not a pilot.”

“You’re the one with the most piloting experience, Doctor,” Troi sighs, helplessly. “It’s not like we had much choice.”

“Well said.” Swift gives a light-hearted smile. “There’s only the three of us.”

“Get ready to disable force fields.” Troi commands, keying in a few commands into the console. “Engines are ready.”

“Force fields disabled.” Swift reports, and the shuttle is pulled out of the shuttlebay, through the depressurisation of the shuttlebay alone. The shuttle shudders as it’s blown right and left by a storm that’s raging. Maybe it would’ve been better to wait, but given the circumstances, nobody wanted to be on that ship any longer. As they clear the ship, Troi looks back, not only with a sense of relief, but also worry, both at the same time.

The Delta steers again, and the left warp nacelle creaks and groans.

“We’re going to have to get as far away from the ship as possible.” Swift reads the data on the console. “The warp nacelle’s overloading.”

“Then I’m glad we’re still not on that wretched ship.” Ke’lth returns.

“Time to warp nacelle overload?” Troi shoots back. “We’re not out of the woods yet, Doctor,” she snaps.

Ke’lth gives a dignified cough. “Of course, Commander.”

“Three minutes.” Swift reads off.

Troi takes a breath. “Are engines online, Doctor?”

“Online and running, sir.” Ke’lth responds. A low hum fills the shuttle, signifying that the shuttle is waiting to burst into warp.

Troi keys in the coordinates of the planet they’ve found earlier. “We could risk breaking the Prime Directive, you know.”

“Commander, we are in uncharted territory. We’re not even sure of our location. Landing on the inhabited planet and asking the inhabitants for help might be the only way we could get help from Starfleet.” Swift suggests.

“Jump to warp, Doctor.” Troi gives the signal. “Engage.”

* * *

  
“He was very discreet, Captain.” Jamin says, a sour expression upon her face.

Yar sighs, and puts her head into her hands. She resurfaces. “Commander, you are accusing a fellow crew member of blackmail that may be even seen as treason, to the Federation.”

Jamin shrinks. “I would not come to you directly unless I was almost completely sure.”

“Unless there is evidence that shows that he has instigated the Romulan incident, and evidence that he was the one who put the Romulan files into your database, I can’t open an investigation. Not at this time. We don’t have crew to spare.” Yar says.

Jamin shakes her head. “I didn’t ask for an investigation, sir.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Yar rises from her chair. She paces a few steps, then leans on the edge of her desk, almost perching. “As Head of Operations, Hurley does have access to certain security codes that most of the other crew does not. It would be hard to detect any suspicious activity from him.”

“I would be inclined to agree.” Jamin puts out, in a cold, emotionless way. “Do you trust me, Captain?”

Yar feels put on the spot. In her heart she wants to believe Jamin, because Jamin’s been a trustworthy friend and an honourable officer, but she forces herself to be fair. “I hope I won’t hurt your feelings by saying this, but although I do take your words to heart, I can’t fully believe you, Jamin.”

Jamin blinks, and nods quietly. “So be it, then.” She gazes past Yar, in full silence.

Time seems like an eternity when silence hangs in the air. It’s only when the comm-system comes alive with the sound of Hurley’s voice, the tension finally breaks.

“Hurley to Captain Yar; Captain La Forge has just beamed aboard.”

“Acknowledged.” Yar replies, stern. “Invite him to meet me in the briefing room. Jamin, get back to your post.”

“Acknowledged, Captain.” She returns, almost hurriedly. Yar’s heart sinks a little at Jamin’s coldness. She knows it isn’t right to favour Jamin, but something in her heart is biting back at her. She shakes the doubt off, and arrives at the briefing room.

Captain La Forge arrives at the brief room shortly after the announcement. Looking up from her PADD, Yar notes that he hasn’t changed much since their last meeting a few years ago. He still has the implants in, and to someone who didn’t spend a lot of time around him, he might have looked intimidating, but Yar knew otherwise.

“Captain La Forge.” Yar greets, formally. “Take a seat.”

“Tasha.” La Forge starts, but then stops himself. “Captain Yar, I mean.” He takes a breath before taking the seat across from Yar on the opposite side of the table. “I’m sorry. I’m just so used to calling you-“

“Tasha, I know.” She waves it off. “It’s a habit.”

“Thanks for understanding.” La Forge nods. “And we’re here to discuss the environment domes.”

* * *

  
The ship stabilises, and everyone heaves a big sigh of relief. Ke’lth leans back in his chair. Troi runs a hand through her curly hair, and then removes the hair tie from her hair. Swift virtually almost collapses, clutching her stomach.

“Now that was a ride.” Swift points out, smiling.

“Absolutely.” Troi gasps, swivelling her chair around. “Anyone hungry?”

“Famished.” Swift shoots back. She rises, and goes to the back of the shuttle. It takes a bit of effort to get the cabinet door open, but it eventually gives way. She takes three ration packs and returns to her seat.

“Bon appetit,” swoons Swift, and throws the other two packs to her fellow crew members.

“Forgive me for asking, Lieutenant,” Ke’lth starts up, “but what was the meaning of the phrase you just used?”

“Bon appetit.” Swift repeats, spreading her hands. “It’s French. An earth language. Means _enjoy your meal_.”

Ke’lth nods in approval. “Well then, Lieutenant,” he raises his pack. “same to you.”

Troi agrees, and the three tuck into their meals. Ke’lth devours his heartily, and while Swift cautiously nibbles at the bar and tries to ignore the taste, Troi takes one bite of it and sets it down.

“Penny for your thoughts, Commander?” Swift speaks up, her speech muffled.

“Don’t chew with your mouth open, Lieutenant,” Troi pokes back in jest.

Swift makes a defiant grunt. “You’re not my mother.”

“But I am your commanding officer,” Troi insists, resisting the urge to burst out into laughter. It’s the same situation back at home, before the incident. Tasha would always jokingly complain about how Deanna would chide her for staying up late, or ordering that second cup of coffee, or spend hours in the holodecks working at that fitness program.

_Deanna._ That’s a name she hasn’t heard in days. Not since the name last slipped past Tasha’s lips and reached her the fateful morning the accident happened.

_“It’s back to the grind for both of us, Deanna,” Tasha laughed, pressing a kiss to Deanna’s lips. Tasha smelled like the strong, black coffee she drank every morning, and a hint of the facial wash Deanna had got her from Betazed. When they went their separate ways for the morning, Tasha to her office to receive reports, and Deanna to the transporter room to give the briefing for the away team, Deanna couldn’t help but feel that the parting felt almost final, although she was almost certainly sure that she would see Tasha again at the end of the day…_

“Commander?” Swift sits forward in her seat, trying to get her attention. “Are you alright?”

“Just homesick.” Troi sighs, but the corners of her mouth curl upwards into a warm smile. “We all are.”

The cabin is silent for just a second, but Troi continues. “We’ve been under a lot of stress, and I know that this time can’t be easy for any of us.”

Ke’lth muses silently, staring out at the stars. “They look similar to the stars back home, but we’re a long way from home.”

“There’s gotta be a way back home.” Swift offers, her tone enthusiastic.

“Thank you for the encouragement, Michelle,” says Troi. Swift gives a tired, weak smile, and closes her eyes as she leans back into her chair.


	10. Chapter 10

“Ready to touch down.” Ke’lth announces, as the rusty, brown planet comes into view. Streams of clear blue streak across the planet - the shuttlecraft will land near one of the rivers, and the trio will try their best to survive there.

Swift’s console starts beeping furiously. In a moment of panic, Troi wonders why Swift hasn’t responded to the conflicts that show up on her console, until she spins Swift’s chair around. She sits, slumped and unconscious, her red hair casting shadows over her face. Normally, Swift had a tanned, brown complexion, but her skin was now tinted grey.

“Doctor, I’ll take over the piloting. There’s something wrong with Lieutenant Swift.” Troi shouts back, moving out of her seat.

Ke’lth shakes his head, and responds in a gruff tone. “I’m sorry, Commander, but I can’t have you leave your post. There still needs to be someone who can redirect the power to the shields from your station if the power drops.”

Troi turns back to glance at the sickened woman. “What about Michelle? We can’t lose her.”

Ke’lth takes a deep sigh. “I will land this shuttle in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes, and you’ll find out what’s wrong with Lieutenant Swift.” Troi permits, her voice stern.

“Yes, sir.” Ke’lth replies, and the shuttle begins its descent into the atmosphere.

* * *

  
The presentation screen clicks off with a beep, and the briefing room goes silent. Too silent. The briefing room has never been so silent.

Maybe it’s the presence of outsiders, but to Yar, La Forge is no outsider. She’s eager to catch up with him, and discuss recent events, but she knows that he’s strictly here on business, and she shouldn’t trouble him while he’s on this joint mission.

Yar stands. “Thank you, Captain.” She gives a small nod in La Forge’s direction, and then turns to her crew. “You are dismissed.”

Quietly, Yar’s crew files out the door, leaving her and La Forge alone in the briefing room.

The hum of the engines seems even more present as silence hangs in the air, tense. It’s almost as if everything seems exactly in the balance, like the gravitational forces planets exert on each other, preventing the universe from crumbling into one big rocky mess. Yar takes a deep breath, not wanting to break the silence, but she knows she has to anyway.

“Geordi.” She addresses her friend informally for the first time in five years. “You haven’t left.”

“Tasha.” Geordi returns, his voice laden with the same distressed tone. She can see it in his eyes - though they’re just implants, but she finds that someone like him can bring emotion and life to the cybernetic implants.

“I guess I’ll have to address it directly before one of us starts breaking down.” Tasha puts out, crossing her arms. “It’s about Deanna.”

Geordi nods. “I read the report on the time anomaly.” He pauses, breathing out through his nose. “I’m probably just as worried for her as you are.”

Tasha almost laughs. “I was the one who married her,” she pokes in jest.

“We did spend quite a lot of our spare time together, the four of us.” Geordi reminisces. “Oh, the good old days…”

“Where’s Data?” Tasha brings up. “I didn’t see him on the crew roster.”

“He has his own command now.” Geordi answers. “He was promoted a few years before I was.”

“Five years.” Tasha smiles. “It’s been too long.”

“Well, I’m just glad that we have a chance to work together again. Just like the old times.”

“It isn’t the same without Data. Or Deanna.” Tasha’s shoulders drop, and she runs a hand through her hair.

“Tasha, you’re distressed.” Geordi remarks. “You’re smiling, but you’re distressed.”

Tasha shakes her head. “Distressed? No, I’m perfectly fine!” She inhales a sharp breath.

“You do that when you’re distressed.” Geordi looks over the top of Tasha’s head. “When you’re serious, you have one hand in your hair, but when you’re stressed, you run your hand through it.”

“I-I’ve never noticed.” Tasha stumbles slightly on her words, and suddenly goes a bit quieter.

Geordi’s brow furrows. “I’m sorry,” he apologises, sensing Tasha’s distress. Stepping forward, he wraps his arms around Tasha in a friendly, consoling embrace. Almost recoiling from the touch, Tasha realises that she hasn’t been in physical contact with anyone in the past few weeks, and it hurts even more when it isn’t Deanna that’s holding her close now. But still, she accepts his hug, heartened by the warmth of his gesture. If anything, he was someone who did understand what Deanna meant to her.

He releases her, and leaves, not saying a single word about her tear-stained cheeks. Tasha stands at the window, staring out into the darkness and wishing that watching the stars go by would calm her.

“Hey, Tasha?” Geordi calls back, just before he exits the room.

Tasha doesn’t have the emotional strength to turn back, something she curses herself for. “Yes?”

“I’m always up to talk if you need me.”

“Thanks, Geordi.”

The doors close with the familiar whoosh, and Tasha remains in the briefing room for just another minute, heart in a numbed state.

* * *

  
The ship makes a smooth landing in a wide, dusty valley. Trees are scarce due to the heat, but it’s strange that there are still rivers running here, that haven’t been dried up by the unforgiving sun.

“There are glaciers just north of here,” Ke’lth reads off the sensors. “That’s where the water is coming from.” He paces across the shuttle to reach Swift. There’s no change in her condition.

He gestures to Troi to come over. “Help me get her onto the floor.” Troi rushes over, and supports Swift’s back as Ke’lth lowers her legs onto the floor. Swift lies, limp, on the hard shuttle floor. Troi removes her jacket, and folds it to make a pillow to prop Swift’s head up. Ke’lth unzips Swift’s jacket, then realises that her undershirt’s only going to obstruct her breathing.

“It’s going to have to come off,” Ke’lth sighs, wiping his brow. Troi struggles to get the undershirt off Swift’s head, but eventually the garment gives way. Now that she can see the rise and fall of Swift’s ribcage, she’s a bit more relieved. She knows Swift is still alive and breathing.

“She’s running a fever.” Ke’lth reports.

“Is there a discernable cause of this fever?” Troi returns.

Ke’lth shakes his head, dismayed. “Without access to computers, I won’t be able to tell whether Lieutenant Swift’s condition is a result of her coming into contact with the bio-matter in the bio neural gel packs or alien nanoprobes. Or it could even be a simple case of overexertion.”

“What would you advise at this point?” Troi inquires.

“We treat her symptoms first. But we need to contact Starfleet as soon as possible. It’d be best if I could get Lieutenant Swift to a starship or starbase.”

Troi nods. “Our previous attempts to contact Starfleet while aboard the Delta have failed. This means that we could be outside explored territory.”

“It was a similar situation when the Vienna was supposed to head to the Veonia system.” Ke’lth remarks. “Could the two incidents be related?”

“It’s quite a stretch of a coincidence.” Troi returns. 

* * *

  
“Time anomalies.” Yar repeats to herself, as she sits with her hands clasped and her feet upon her desk. She reclines, breathing slowly.

She imagines herself in a better place. A better place where things are simpler. Maybe in the past. Things were simpler in the past when she didn’t have her own command, and when she wasn’t married to Deanna. The emotional stress had been less.

But yet, she can’t imagine going the rest of her life without Deanna. The thought frightens her, and that’s what motivates her even more to get her crew back.

She thinks back to a distant memory, a happy one. While the Enterprise was docked at Deep Space Nine for Captain Picard’s meeting with some Bajoran bureaucrats, she and Deanna had taken the opportunity to get off the ship to explore this solitary station. The Cardassian architecture had fascinated both of them, and although neither of them were very concerned with the technicalities of such design, they were very much taken in by the aesthetic. Tasha remembered kissing Deanna when the wormhole opened - some superstitious ‘kiss for luck’, something like that.

Wormhole. Tasha sits up in her chair, jolted.

If she’s lucky, she can pull a few strings and get the data findings about the wormhole. It was a crazy gamble, but if Captain Sisko could ascend his plane of existence and join the supposed Prophets in their nonlinear time, it could’ve been possible that the disappearance of the away team could be due to a similar wormhole, connecting two different point of time.

She runs through a list of contacts. No, Worf had left the station for almost three years now. She doesn’t recognise any of the other names on the list, save for one.

Ezri Dax. A friend of Deanna’s.

Tasha picks up her PADD and stylus, and starts to draft a message.


	11. Chapter 11

_It was hard to get access to these files, and I wasn’t allowed to release it all. I hope you’ll find Kahn’s work on artifical wormholes useful, and I’m sending you all my good wishes and support._

_Until we meet again,  
Ezri Dax_

Yar skims through the material, and nods her head. She uploads it to the ship’s database, making a mental note to tell the head of the science department to get started on the research once they have manpower to spare from the Teloi I project.

_Much thanks, Ezri. Hope everything goes smoothly._

_Regards,  
Tasha_

She sends out the message before rising to get herself another coffee. She sits in silence.

“It’s too quiet,” she says out loud, basking in the silence. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, glancing from corner to corner of her ready room. The world’s far too wide without Deanna, and far too cold.

But still, work has to be done. She turns back to the paperwork on her table, relieved for the routine it brings.

* * *

  
Night has fallen. Nervously, Troi glances over the console, reading the temperature and humidity outside.

“Would you think it’s possible that we could consume the water in the stream over there, Doctor?” Troi raises her concern.

Ke’lth shrugs. “With the right treatment, Commander.”

“That’s for just in case we run out of water rations before being rescued.”

“Commander, if I may speak up?”

“Yes, Doctor?” Troi asks.

“I hate to be pessimistic,” Ke’lth says, “but I think it’ll be unlikely that we’ll survive until Starfleet rescues us. After all, we’ve been stuck in this pocket of undiscovered space for weeks.”

Troi nods. “Right.” She glances at Lieutenant Swift, who is calmly sleeping on the floor of the shuttle. She looks calm enough, but the pale grey tint of her skin indicates otherwise. “How is Lieutenant Swift?”

“Thankfully, her condition doesn’t seem to be getting any worse.” Ke’lth heaves a sigh. “That doesn’t mean that she’s getting any better, however.”

“Understood.” Troi’s voice drops to a whisper.

“But there’s got to be some way to contact our crew. Wherever they might be.” Troi suggests. “I could try the telepathic link again, but my telepathic abilities are rather, limited.”

“Other methods of communication.” Ke’lth leans back in his chair, and crosses his arms in his usual manner.

“I wonder how Tasha are getting along without us.” Troi ponders. “She not only has her usual duties to go about, she’ll also be concerned in finding a solution to this problem. For us, our main duty at this instant is to continue staying alive until we manage to find a solution to this problem.”

“And the people who have stepped up to replace us.” Ke’lth points out. “Especially the new Chief of Security.”

“What about them?” Troi raises an eyebrow. “After Lieutenant Swift, the next officer in the chain of command is,” she stops to think, “Lieutenant Alan Peters, I think.”

“The ex-Borg.” Ke’lth brings up. “Commander, I didn’t mean that in-“

“He was liberated six months ago. He was in the collective for several days, a week at least.” Troi recalls.

“Exactly five days.” Ke’lth corrects her. “I handled his case myself.”

Troi suddenly sits forward in her chair. “Does Peters still have his implants in?”

“Only one of the cranial implants we couldn’t remove. It’s been deactivated, but there’s no telling if some Borg tampering might bring it back to life.” Ke’lth explains.

“If we could send a message to Lieutenant Peters through the implant, we could use him as a relay to Tasha.” Troi says, out loud.

“However,” she adds, “sending a message across two different timelines might be more challenging. What do you know about Peters’ implant?”

“I remember the frequency it receives incoming messages on.” Ke’lth recalls. “To send a message across a different timeline, I believe we’ll need to create a wormhole first. However, I do not have the necessary technical knowledge on wormholes to create one.”

“That’s a start, though.” says Troi. 

* * *

  
“A wormhole?” Geordi exclaims, raising his eyebrows. “Wow.”

“And that’s how you react?” Tasha returns, tipping back her drink. “Just that?”

“There are a lot of possibilities.” Geordi swirls his drink around his glass. The ambient, dim light of Tasha’s quarters casts a soft glow on his amber drink. “I remember that time when Ro and I were presumed dead. Turns out it was just a phasing.”

“We haven’t tried that. Remind me to sweep the ship for traces of chronitons.” Tasha nods, but her expression turns sour quick. “But they’ve been gone for a few weeks. Without food. Without water.” Her gaze is suddenly far away. “Oh, god.” Her heart drops in her chest, and the alcohol isn’t helping. She downs the last of Lwaxana’s best Betazed ale.

“I’m sorry.” Geordi whispers, sitting opposite her. Tasha gets up from her chair, and goes to the replicator. “You’re not getting another synthehol, are you?” Geordi chides.

“Glass of water.” Tasha instructs the replicator. A glass shimmers into view. Taking the glass, she returns to the table and sits on the couch, next to Geordi. Closing her eyes, she leans into him, and doesn’t remove his arm from her shoulder when he places it around her.

“You’ve been through a lot, Tasha. You’re the bravest person I know.” Geordi assures.

Tasha laughs, tiredly, and shakes her head. “Deanna’s far braver than I am, she’s out there. I don’t even know if she has help on her side or anything.”

“Right.” Geordi says. “You and Deanna.”

“I love her, and I’m scared.” Tasha yawns.

“Everyone’s scared.” Geordi agrees. Tasha nudges him in the neck with her head, and he moves to make space for her legs, which she swings up under her. She shifts slightly, and then goes still after a short while, sound asleep.

The door opens, and Jamin enters, heading for Tasha’s study. As she passes the duo, seeing her captain passed out on Geordi’s shoulder, she can’t help but widen her eyes just a bit.

Geordi glances at the sleeping Tasha, and decides that he doesn’t dare to move her. “I think I’m staying for the night,” he says softly, and Jamin nods. 

* * *

  
Swift’s eyes flutter open, weakly. “Deanna.” She croaks. “No, Commander.”

“Michelle.” Troi leans over her, running a hand over Swift’s forehead. “You’re conscious.”

“I feel,” Swift pauses, grimacing, “terrible.”

“It’s okay to feel terrible.” Troi assures. She clears her throat, and turns to Ke’lth. “Doctor, how is she?”

Ke’lth runs the scanner over Swift’s torso. “The fever hasn’t gone down, but there’s been a change in her bodily systems.”

“Excuse me?” Swift spits out. “Sorry, I think I was out of line-“

“No,” Ke’lth shakes his head. “You do have the right to know what is going on. The nanoprobes have seemed to latch onto your blood cells. There is evidence that increased artificial activity has started to take place in your brain, which suggests that new implants are being synthesised to help with higher brain functions.”

“I’m not going to turn into a Borg, am I?” Swift says, her voice slightly quivering.

“They’re not exactly Borg nanoprobes, but a similar evolved form.” Ke’lth offers. “The nanoprobes may not even be harmful to your system.”

Swift takes a deep breath, and then shuts her eyes tight. “Woah. Are the stars always so beautiful out there?”

“Michelle?” Troi puts a hand on Swift’s shoulder.

“Moving forward.” Swift gives a breathy whisper. “Satellite 89270.”

“Doctor?” Troi asks, raising her eyebrows.

“There’s been increased telepathic activity.” Ke’lth explains. “I don’t think there’s much we can do to stop it.”

The console gives a loud beep, rudely interrupting their conversation.

Satellite 89270  
Drone Andromeda activated

“Drone Andromeda?” Ke’lth says out loud.

Swift’s eyes open, and she blinks once before speaking. “I’m still your Michelle, with a few new features.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Our Michelle,” Troi puts forward, “we would like to have her back.”

Swift sits up, and shakes her head. “Commander, I am Michelle. It seems that Andromeda seems to be cohabiting my body. With me. It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? The name I’ve been trying to distance myself from?”

“How ironic.” Ke’lth snorts. “The nanoprobes took over your body, and it’s going to take quite a bit of work to get the implants out.”

“There is no need for that.” Swift speaks again, and her voice is deeper and breathier, and everyone comes to realise that it is the drone Andromeda speaking, and not Swift. “Our purpose, is only to serve.”

“We serve the Borg, but these drones are the exact opposite.” Ke’lth points out. “Andromeda, what is your designation?”

“Prion Alpha 2283.” Andromeda returns.

“Prion.” Troi repeats, pausing to think. “Is that merely a designation or the name of your species?”

“Intelligent guess, Commander. You’re absolutely right.” Andromeda remarks, delighted. “We are the Prions, and we only live to serve.”

“Lieutenant Swift would never speak to her commander officer like that,” Troi crosses her arms.

“Well, I am Lieutenant Swift. And I am not. Both at the same time.” Andromeda proclaims. Swift blinks, hard, and when she opens her eyes, she lowers herself back down to the ground.

“Damn.” Swift’s voice comes through again. “Some migraine this is. Andromeda must be kicking up a real storm now.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ke’lth inquires, scanning her with a tricorder.

“I never said I was alright,” retorts Swift. She winces again, in pain. “Andromeda just sent out a signal on multiple time-space continuum. She requires a recepient frequency.”

“Tell her to send it to S-2003-Gamma.” Ke’lth says. “That’ll hopefully reach Peters.”

* * *

  
Doctor Ogawa rushes into Yar’s ready room, looking troubled. “Captain, there’s been an issue.”

“Yes?” Yar prompts.

“Well, I was looking over the crew physical reports, and there’s been a discrepancy in Hurley’s report.” Ogawa explains. “He might not be who he says he is.”

“What are the discrepancies?” Yar sits forward in her seat.

Ogawa takes a big breath. “There’s been discrepancies in his DNA sequence. Certain strands of DNA seem to be mutating, and thus his records don’t match his previous physical. This suggests that there might have been genetic tampering involved.”

“Genetic tampering?” Yar repeats. “Merely genetic tampering, or enhancements?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t find a pattern in the mutations that concretely point to either case. But still, if it were to be genetic enhancements, he’d be barred from Starfleet. Genetic tampering, or enhancements, might be more common than you think, Captain.” Ogawa points out. “There’s been a rumour that one of my Academy classmates was enhanced.”

“Oh? What happened to him? I’m curious.”

Ogawa shakes her head. “He still has his post, as far as I know. Either the rumours are false, or Starfleet hasn’t found out yet.”

“How did this rumour come about?” Yar asks.

Ogawa takes a pause to think. “He was captain of our racquetball team. He was so much faster than every one of us. He could beat out virtually anyone. Even the Vulcans. But I guess it could’ve been just rumours started by the jealous second on the team.”

“Hm.” Yar nods. “Still, could you monitor Hurley’s case?”

“No problem, Captain.” Ogawa promises. “Also, I think there’s something you should know.”

“Anything else?”

“Forgive me, but may I speak frankly, Captain?” Ogawa puts forward, sheepishly.

“Go ahead.”

“Did Captain La Forge really stay for the whole night in your quarters?” Ogawa asks.

Yar gives a heavy sigh. “Oh God, what about this?”

“There are already rumours flying around that you cheated on your missing wife and slept with him.” Ogawa frowns. “The refugees got wind of it, and they’re not happy. Their religion condemns extra-marital relations. Their opinion of you has been changed, and not for the better.”

Yar clasps her hands. “But the fact is, I haven’t slept with him. In fact, I have a witness who was in my quarters last night.”

“Commander Jamin.” Ogawa recalls. “Do you think she can convince them? Would they take her word for it?”

“It’s a tricky situation.” Yar returns. She crosses her arms. “Do you know who started the rumours? I feel that some disciplinary action should be taken against the person who started the speculation. After all, these rumours could lead to unrest among the refugee population, and pose a threat to the success of the current rehabilitation mission.”

“I’ll inform Commander Jamin to start an investigation.” Ogawa assures. She gives a courteous slight nod to Yar, and leaves the room.

* * *

  
Swift grits her teeth, clutching the sides of her head. Concerned, Troi sits on the floor next to her, cross-legged, and grabs Swift by the shoulders. Lowering Swift’s head onto her own lap, Troi slowly removes Swift’s hands from either side of her head and begins to massage her temples.

“Michelle,” Troi begins, “can you hear me?”

“Commander, we may have to sedate her,” Ke’lth reminds, monitoring Swift’s state.

“No,” Swift yells, clenching her jaw. “She’s sending the message. It shouldn’t be interrupted.”

“The electrical activity is more than what your body can handle, Lieutenant.” Ke’lth says, stern. “I’ll have to sedate you if critical levels are reached.”

“How long more, Andromeda?” Troi asks, and the question seems to dissipate into thin air. She takes one of Swift’s hands in hers. Another jolt races through Swift’s body, causing her to clench her hands, creating painful red moons on the back of Troi’s hand.

Finally, Swift’s breathing slows, and stablises. Her head lolls limply against her chest. Troi brushes Swift’s hair off her forehead, and wipes the sweat from her brow.

“Doctor?” Troi turns, glancing at Ke’lth. Grimly, he comes over, and scans her over. A mild smile returns to his face.

“She’ll make it,” assures Ke’lth. “Now we have to know if Peters received it.”

* * *

  
The tall, dark man stands on the bridge, looking into the distance. Occasionally, he feels a jolt resonate throughout his brain - the Borg implant’s mostly deactivated, but not completely, and Doctor Ke’lth said it would be alright. It gave him headaches sometimes, but everything was alright today. Just another normal day, as the replacement Chief of Security serving on the Vienna.

And suddenly, Lieutenant Alan Peters could hear his commanding officer speak to him.

_This is the drone Andromeda, currently inhabiting the body of Starfleet Lieutenant Commander Michelle Swift. There are three personnel in the shuttle Archimedes of the Starship USS Delta, all alive._

He heads off the bridge, and stands at attention at Yar’s ready room.

“Captain,” he says, upon stepping in, “I think I’ve just received a message. From the missing away team.”


End file.
